There's No Choice But to Believe It (1)
The phrase “the sound of a river flowing” was, in truth, a little awkward.
Brooks made their noise as they ran, but there were few who could hear the sound of a deep river in motion. A river simply flowed, majestic and implacable.
And yet those standing on Maehwado heard it clearly at this moment—the steady, rhythmic sound of wave meeting wave, like an unbroken melody.
That was how profound the silence had fallen over the island.
Even seeing it with their own eyes, they could not believe it.
A third-generation disciple of Mount Hua, a swordsman who had only just come of age, was pressing the Black Dragon King—an absolute power who held an unshakable position in the martial world known as Dosan Sword Forest.
Coldly speaking, the extent of the injuries the two had suffered did not differ all that much.
Of course, the Black Dragon King’s body was cut and punctured in places. But considering the size and resilience of that massive frame, such wounds could not be called fatal by any means.
By contrast, Cheong Myeong’s injuries were confined to one hand—but that hand had been ruined to the point of near immobility.
The back of it had been stripped almost bare, white bone visible beneath torn flesh, and the palm was a mangled mess, as though it had been sliced to ribbons.
If anyone had arrived at this moment and simply examined the two, they would have hesitated to say who held the advantage.
But the people here—the ones who had watched the entire exchange from its beginning until now—would not dare call this clash anything so absurd as a draw.
A terrible sense of dissonance seized everyone. Faced with a sight that shattered the common sense they had always taken for granted, they could only fall silent.
“……”
Namgung Myeong, who had seemed about to say something, shut his mouth before the words could leave him. No phrase he could devise would ever be enough to express what he felt now.
Then, almost without thinking, he looked down at his own hands. Cold sweat had soaked through his palms and was sliding down his skin.
What in the world is that man…?
He couldn’t understand it. Or perhaps it was fear.
Cheong Myeong’s sword was unmistakably the product of ruthless calculation. Namgung Myeong was, after all, one of the Namgung clan. As a direct descendant of a family that had never once relinquished its throne as the greatest sword house under heaven, he understood at once.
How much effort and obsession had gone into that one seemingly casual swing.
No—even without bearing the Namgung name, any swordsman would have known it.
But could effort alone explain everything before his eyes? No matter how fiercely one drove oneself, no matter how far one sharpened body and spirit until one had become a blade oneself, could anyone truly fight like that?
No.
That was not something one could learn. It was not even the kind of thing sheer willpower could achieve.
That Cheong Myeong was simply, fundamentally, something different.
Namgung Myeong did not know what had made the man that way, but merely watching him fling his sword made gooseflesh rise all over his body. His jaw trembled faintly, and it felt as though his blood had turned cold.
Then—
“That damned bastard…”
“Tch.”
Voices brimming with irritation rose from among the Five Swords standing beside him. Not just irritation—rage, perhaps, would be more accurate.
They were watching Cheong Myeong.
And then, a strange sight unfolded. Cheong Myeong, the one who had so completely seized Namgung Myeong’s attention that he could scarcely breathe, tore at his own clothes.
Riiiiip!
He wrapped the tatters around his battered left hand, binding it tight.
“Tch.”
In the midst of a furious assault against an enemy, tending to one’s own body was something that should never have happened. He had heard it drilled into his ears so many times that only survival mattered, that not getting hurt was more important than killing the enemy—but while fighting, he had never once paused to tend to an injury.
And yet now he was using a strip of cloth as a bandage, however crudely, to bind his hand. That was because the looks aimed at him were murderous.
Those damn bastards.
Baek Cheon, Jo Geol, and Yoon Jong were all glaring as if they might actually bite him. Yu I-seol’s expression had not changed, but she looked ready to spring at him and strangle him on the spot. And Dang So-so, radiating murderous intent from behind them all, was downright terrifying.
As he finished tying off the injured hand, Cheong Myeong gave a small snort of laughter.
Scared of what others might think, pausing in the middle of battle to tend an injury—if Dang Bo had seen this, he might have choked on his own blood and fainted dead away.
Grip.
He tugged the cloth tight with his teeth, tied it off properly, spat out the grains of sand clinging to his lips, and adjusted his sword. Then, as though even now he found the whole thing ridiculous, he let out a faint, incredulous laugh.
Just then, the Black Dragon King hauled his enormous body upright.
Blood dripped from his bitten lip, and his face was twisted as though he were barely holding in his fury. His guandao, planted into the ground, trembled violently.
“You—”
In that instant, a savage aura exploded from the Black Dragon King’s entire body.
The force of it was so overwhelming that several pirates nearby simply blacked out and collapsed. It was a terrifying pressure, enough to make even Mount Hua’s disciples flinch.
“You little rat!”
Veins stood out in the Black Dragon King’s eyes.
What was all this supposed to mean?
He would concede the speed. But among the injuries he had taken in battle with that damned brat, there was not a single one that had been inflicted by “skill” alone.
It was the result of sheer stubbornness—of forcing his body onward despite injury, of insane improvisation, and of that lunatic’s madness.
Though curses spilled from his mouth, his face had taken on an expression of utmost caution.
That bastard is terrifyingly experienced in combat.
No—calling him terrifying was still too crude a way to describe everything the Black Dragon King had just endured. Even he, who ordinarily despised learning, felt a painful sense of helplessness at having no word that could properly capture that madness and venom.
Ordinary martial artists waited for an opening in their opponent. A supreme master created that opening with his own strength.
But that brat did not remain on such a level.
He was the kind to force open a gap, then sink his nails and fangs into it and rip the wound wider.
Step. Step.
The Black Dragon King tightened the cloth around his hand again with his teeth and watched Cheong Myeong approach.
Even the sound of those footsteps was oppressive.
Gritting his teeth, the Black Dragon King knew this much.
A rabbit would never walk up to a tiger first. At the very least, the fact that he could advance first in battle was proof that he held the upper hand.
It was a situation that should have shredded the Black Dragon King’s pride to pieces, but instead of shouting curses as usual, he slowly leveled his guandao forward.
The motion was endlessly deliberate.
It was an acknowledgment. It meant he had accepted the small swordsman standing before him as a mortal enemy worthy of fighting for his life.
No strong man was strong from the beginning. He, too, had survived among those stronger than himself until he had climbed to this point.
Instead of sweeping the area like a storm, a blade-thin killing intent now began to flow through him, sharp as a razor edge.
Cheong Myeong’s lips curled into a faint, bloodthirsty smile.
“About time you got serious.”
“Don’t get cocky, you little—”
The Black Dragon King could not finish. It was as though someone had clapped a hand over his mouth. He could not bring himself to call that mad Taoist an “upstart.”
“Keh.”
His mouth tightened so hard it seemed to crush his own lips, and his dark eyes sank lower.
He knew.
Results justified everything. If that man was strong, then the stronger he was, the greater the praise the Black Dragon King would ultimately receive once he won.
So then…
Drawing his breath in, the Black Dragon King slowly pushed the sand away with the tip of his foot. With each breath, the guandao rose and fell naturally.
The eyes that had raged like those of a boar shot by a spear gradually changed, becoming the eyes of a true warrior.
Chwaak!
The instant his toes struck the ground, the Black Dragon King’s figure shot forward like an illusion. Sand ripped loose and exploded upward, and at the same time his body reached Cheong Myeong’s face.
Fwooosh!
A short, swift thrust followed.
This was no simple assault driven by brute force. It was a thrust that made absolute use of the guandao’s reach, a spear longer than most spears. Before the first thrust had even fully extended, dozens of slashing afterimages poured out, threatening to sweep over Cheong Myeong’s entire body.
Cheong Myeong leaped back rapidly. But in the next instant, the afterimages unleashed by the Black Dragon King stretched even farther, pursuing him.
“Hup!”
With a sharp exhale, Cheong Myeong thrust out his sword like a viper striking toward a point in the void.
Kang!
Cheong Myeong’s sword shot precisely into the seam between the waves of blade qi, glancing hard left and right to push the incoming attack aside. And just as he was about to use the space he had pried open like that to send his own sword in—
Whoooosh!
With a piercing whistle, the Black Dragon King’s guandao shot like a streak of light through the gap Cheong Myeong had made. In an instant, Cheong Myeong twisted his wrist and brought the sword vertically upright.
KAAAANG!
Blade met blade in midair, and Cheong Myeong’s body was knocked backward.
At that very moment, the Black Dragon King changed his grip on the guandao.
Kwaang!
As his foot stamped the ground with such force it seemed ready to shatter it, the raised guandao carved viciously through the air.
KWAOOOOOOOO!
Black blade qi poured from the tip of the weapon like a waterfall. It was like watching a giant brush drag a single, furious stroke across empty sky.
Facing that blade qi hurtling toward him as though it meant to smash him to pieces, Cheong Myeong twisted his body in midair and flung his sword back as far as it would go.
“HRAAAAH!”
From the tip of Cheong Myeong’s sword, whipped like a lash, erupted a crescent of red sword qi. The sword qi, resembling the light of a fading sunset, slammed head-on into the black blade qi rushing in.
KWAAAAAAAAAANG!
The moment those two forces collided, a deafening explosion, as though a cannon had been fired, shook the air and birthed a massive eruption of qi in midair.
Kung.
At that same instant, the black blade qi clinging to the Black Dragon King’s guandao surged wildly. It swelled and swelled in an instant, condensing, then condensing again, until it became a single line. Then it wrapped around the guandao and began spinning with ferocious intensity.
“HOOOOOOOOOOO!”
The Black Dragon King unleashed a roar that split his throat. His aura surged even higher, and the guandao was soon completely enveloped by the black blade qi spinning in a violent vortex.
PAAAAAAAAAAANG!
He slashed down as if tearing the very air apart. The blade force that burst from the guandao drew nine brutal lines across the canvas of the sky.
Nine Dragons Rising Formation.
It looked as though nine black dragons were hurtling toward Cheong Myeong.
At the monstrous sight, the Mount Hua disciples watching from afar cried out for the first time.
“Cheong Myeoooooooong!”
But in that instant, a single red point appeared in the sky.
Against the water-blue heaven and the vivid blue river, in that world that looked like a painted screen, red blossoms burst forth like clouds.
An explosive bloom.
Plum blossoms—dozens, then hundreds, then thousands—blossomed and blossomed again, building a massive wall in midair. The world turned red, as though sunset had suddenly spilled across a pure blue sky.
At last, the nine dragons twisted together and crashed head-on into the wall of red plum blossoms blocking their way.
KWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANG!
With a colossal detonation as if a mountain had collapsed, red and black energies burst apart like fireworks and scattered into the air.